


Gate F12

by AluraEmbrey



Category: Gate F12
Genre: Lack of Plot, Light Swearing, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AluraEmbrey/pseuds/AluraEmbrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>O’Hare International Airport’s tricks wouldn’t ruin Arthur’s day in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gate F12

**Author's Note:**

> This happened to me while trying to fly this morning. So I wrote about it. Sorry if it sucks, but this is the first piece of fiction my muse has let me write in about 7 months. XD

Figuring out which gate he needed to be out shouldn’t be this difficult. Honestly. He’s a grown ass man, a professional. If anyone had ever suggested that Arthur Pendragon would have this much of an issue simply trying to get on a flight, he would scoff at them.

Yet and still, he finds himself standing in the middle of the O’Hare’s Terminal 2 at 4 in the morning, confusion clearly etched on his face as he basically paces circles around himself. All he wants to do is go home, damn it.

But it is not his fault, he blames the monitors. They can’t seem to agree with themselves.

The one by the US Airways said that his flight was going to be in Gate 12. Which seems find and dandy as that’s what’s on his boarding pass. Yet when you ventured further past, it becomes apparent that you’ve entered the United area of the Terminal. And that screen lists Arthur’s connecting flight into New York as being at Gate 8. And now that seems logical because Gate 8 is actually in the US Airways section.

The piece de resistance though? Gate 10 says his actual flight number and destination on it.

This was giving him a headache.

God damn it, he was never letting his idiot PA book his flights again. Sophia was being fired as soon as he got back to London. If he got back to London. Though with his luck he was going to be stuck in Chicago forever, eating deep-dish pizza and being blown away in the wind.

“What the bloody fuck?”

Arthur turned around at the sound of an angry, British voice echoing his own thoughts perfectly. He was met by a tired looking, confused string bean of a man. His black hair curled delicately around his ear on one side, while the other side stuck up in indication that someone had fallen asleep just before coming here. Yet even tired and confused, Arthur couldn’t help but notice the man’s eyes. A deep blue with hints of golden rings around each one.

“Trying to figure out flight 1071?”

The other man whipped his head away from the ticket in his hand and up towards Arthur, a look of relief on his face. “Yes, I am. Thank god you asked. I was feeling like an idiot myself.”

“Don’t get too excited, I’m just as lost as you.” Arthur told the man, even though he couldn’t help but enjoy feeling like a knight in shining armour for a moment. “I tried to find an attendant but there’s no one around.”

“Bullocks.”

Arthur nodded, even as he suppressed a smile at the look of disappointment on the man’s face. “My thoughts exactly.”

For a moment the two stood and stared at each other, clearly waiting for the other to speak. But no solution seemed readily available for them and the time they spent looking at each other dragged on until it changed from fun to awkward and stale.

Finally Arthur coughed to clear his throat and break up the moment. The other man looked away, but Arthur noticed a small smile light up the corners of his lips, nonetheless.

“I’m Merlin, by the way.” The taller man finally says, offering a hand and looking shy through his lashes. “If we’re going to be lost together, we might as well get acquainted.”

Arthur lifts his own hand to shake a smile forming on his face. He may be tired, cranky and confused as fuck, but this day wasn’t going completely poorly.

“I’m Arthur.”


End file.
